Salvation
by weavingmaid
Summary: Philip and Syrena are compelling, especially because he is a religious man. How did they become so attached to each other? And how does faith work in a situation like this? In this set of short chapters, I explore these unanswered questions from the film.
1. Beginning

1.

I grew up in the English countryside. My father was a pastor, a good and kind man who encouraged me to seek guidance from the Lord before undertaking any task. I knew he wanted me to follow his path into the clergy, and I did so willingly. But from the very beginning, we both knew my path lay outside the comfortable folds of my father's parish. My guidance was needed in the outside world, where the trials of sin and temptation plagued the souls of thousands of men. Pirates.

Perhaps it was a fool's errand, to try and speak to men who boldly claimed to be Godless, ruled by no force but the ocean winds. And yet, as a child, I had tried to learn about their ways, and I knew that they treated ritual with reverence—the kind of reverence I would see in the eyes of my father when he spoke of God's law. Because of this, I felt there was a chance that these men could be saved.

When Angelica came to me with her request that I pray to save her father's soul, I did not hesitate. I knew it would be a challenge that would test me beyond any thus far, but I knew the Lord would help me through. When I was bound to the mast, rain beating upon my chest and men sparring and bellowing on the deck below, I continued to look to the sky to pray for the salvation of this cruel man, the father she so dearly loved. I truly believed I would prevail.

Until I met _her. _


	2. Capture

2.

We venture into the inky darkness of Whitecap Bay. Light shines upon us, pulsating from the lighthouse. An eerie stillness nearly paralyzes the other men as they push forth, singing faintly in hopes of catching the attention of a mermaid. I don't understand why they do this so willingly—the task is dangerous, and the consequences deadly. But then, there is little I understand of the motives of these men.

Tamara, their queen, appears at the side of the boat. Her lips curve into a smile as she echoes the song that one of the men has been singing to lure the mermaids, soft, and coaxing.

One of them—I cannot remember his name—leans toward the water to kiss her, hypnotized by her voice. And then she bares her fangs, and the placid water is suddenly filled with the shrieks of bloodthirsty creatures with shrill voices and razor-sharp fins.

Within seconds, the bay becomes a war zone of struggling limbs, seaweed ropes, and fire. I struggle to reach the shore as I try to escape from the falling debris, and pause for a moment, out of breath. And then I see it—a mermaid tail thrashing wildly under a fallen piece of wood. As a swath of fire circles the bay and forces the other mermaids to retreat, the creature's movement becomes more frenzied and frantic, and suddenly she emerges and our eyes meet, the shock we both feel echoed in the other's face as I swiftly stab her tail. The world is still. And then the other men catch up to us and seize her arms.

Captain Blackbeard emerges triumphantly from the heaving mass of men and congratulates me for succeeding where all the others have failed. As the mermaid struggles to escape, baring her teeth and hissing at her captors, my stomach sinks while the memory of her gaze pierces my chest.


	3. Wonder

3.

The men roughly toss the mermaid into a makeshift pool, fashioned out of glass they found below the decks. Her delicate face, forceful gaze, and untamed grace even in the confines of a glass box are nothing like the sweet, fluttery women my younger brothers chose to marry. I cannot bear to watch as she writhes helplessly in the small space, so I look away.

The pirates on Captain Blackbeard's ship have an unparalleled knowledge of folklore and legends, and they love to share them with anyone who will listen. As a child, I, too, devoured these fairy stories as eagerly as those found in the Scriptures, but I was taught to dismiss them as mere myth.

I have always believed in heaven and eternal salvation, but now, confronted by this strangely beautiful being with the body of a woman and the tail of a fish, I must accept that the supernatural is a real part of this world. It is a revelation more startling than anything I have encountered thus far.

Upon hearing that we were headed into mermaid waters, the men began to whisper amongst themselves of these beautiful, deadly creatures, ready to lure in unsuspecting sailors and pull them to a watery grave. But kissing one would save a man from ever drowning, and this, I gather, was what drove them to prevail on this dangerous task.

As we drew nearer Whitecap Bay, the men joked that if they could force their lips to touch a mermaid's as she tried to strangle them, there was a chance they might survive. Of course, we soon learned that such a thing was not possible. These creatures are fierce and heartless, and their aim faster than an arrow.

Still, I cannot help but wonder at the sensation—what would it be like to touch her lips?

But I know such a thing is not possible. I turn away and return to the ship, where Blackbeard's men dance about the mast, drunken with their victory. I wish I could join in their joy, but I cannot celebrate this sin.

I return to my bunk and try to sleep, but I feel strange and light, as though a flock of nervous birds has been trapped within me. And so I look out the foggy glass window and stare at the pale and watery moon, replete with confusion.


	4. Rescue

Angelica stands between her father and me. "Every soul can be saved," she says, her low, husky voice resolute with conviction.

Captain Blackbeard smirks. He cares little for my presence on board or for eternal salvation—evidenced by the fact that he had me bound to the mast for several weeks so I could pray for his soul "free of distractions" once it became clear I would not take a position either for or against his mission.

Still, he listens to everything his daughter says, so he turns to me and asks, "Is that true, young cleric?"

I believe all men, even those who commit evil acts, are capable of salvation. So I say "Yes," but something in Blackbeard's callous expression and the memory of the past few weeks compels me to add, "But you I see as a long shot."

* * *

><p>At daybreak, we set out across the terrain. According to Jack Sparrow, it is not far from our ship, but it will take time to reach the Fountain of Youth, especially with the mermaid in tow.<p>

She is quiet this morning, her movements listless, her eyes blank and emotionless though her reddish-orange tail shimmers brightly in the sunlight. She is a shell of the wild creature I encountered last night, and for whatever reason, observing this change constricts my chest.

As we trek through the dense forest, I find myself continuously looking back at her. There is nothing to suggest that she notices my attention, but one of the other men catches my surreptitious glances and leers at me as though he knows exactly what I'm thinking.

A jolt of anger shoots through me and for a moment, I wonder how he would react if he was trapped in a glass palanquin, jostled carelessly from side to side by cruel men who care little for basic decency.

I turn once more to her, only to see that her eyes have widened—tortured gasps are rising from her throat—her slender arms are thrust to the glass in panic—she cannot breathe—

She is dying.

"She needs air!" I shout at the other men. They ignore me and keep walking. "You're killing her!"

The mermaid thrashes once more against the top of the box and I lose control. I wrench a bar from one of the men and shove it into the metal bolt, forcing it open. She rises instantly, sucking in the air with deep, frenetic gasps.

As her breath steadies, our eyes meet once more, hers half-lidded with exhaustion, mine wide with panic at the thought of losing her.


	5. Distractions

I am sitting on a rock bordering a shallow pool, dipping my toes into the cool water. The day is humid and damp, and I am tired. I meditate upon the events of the past few days, conversing with the Lord and praying for guidance. My encounters with the mermaid have left me unsettled and curious about my faith. Where in God's kingdom does a creature such as she belong? And why do I feel so strange when I look at her? Never have I felt so protective of another being—not even of my own family members.

Lost in my thoughts, I do not hear Angelica approach me. She puts her hand on my left shoulder and whispers, "Be careful, Missionary."

"Come again?" I ask, unsure of what she means.

Her face is pensive. "Your mission is to seek salvation for my father. Do not let your mind succumb to other distractions."


	6. Peace

I am the sole survivor of a ship captured and destroyed by Captain Blackbeard. If not for Angelica, I would not be alive. At the time, I wondered why she chose me for this task, why she believed I have the strength to pray for her father's soul. But now, I wonder if her decision was not part of a larger plan the Lord has for me.

In my village, faith is an uncomplicated matter. The people there are straightforward, their motives transparent. It has never been difficult to believe that all men are capable of good, that all of God's creatures are created alike under the sun. I know now that I was ignorant in believing this. Not all men are virtuous. Not all creatures are simple.

The mermaid constantly haunts my thoughts. When I wake up in the middle of the night, I try to pray but instead find myself drawn to her side, watching her sleep in the tank. Her translucent eyelids flicker rapidly under the water as miniature bubbles rise to the surface. Eventually, the steady rise and fall of her chest lulls me back to sleep.

I am woken early in the morning by a kick in the chest from Angelica, who scowls at me and silently motions at me to return to my section of the camp before the others wake up and notice me there. Her stormy expression suggests I should regret my actions, but all I feel is a strange sense of peace.


	7. I'll Carry Her

We are walking once more when the men carrying the mermaid trip over a fallen branch and drop her glass cage. It shatters into a million pieces and she tumbles onto the soil. To everyone's astonishment, her tail transforms into a pair of pale, slender legs.

Captain Blackbeard, unfazed by the whole spectacle, commands her to walk, and yanks her to her newly formed feet. He has no time for sympathy.

As she crumples to the ground, whispering, "I cannot," the others leer at her exposed body. But God did not put me on this earth to stand by and do nothing. I rush to her side, pull my shirt off, and cover her as they continue to laugh.

She hisses at me as I try to help her, and Blackbeard snorts with mirth. "You see, she doesn't want your help!"

But I will not be fazed. "I'll carry her," I announce defiantly, and the other men stare at me with bemusement. No doubt they are surprised by my sudden conviction, but then, how can I expect them to understand?

To his credit, Blackbeard says little more than, "Do not fall behind," before he returns to ignoring my presence and the fact that I am carrying a mermaid-turned-human. Eventually, the other men follow his cue, and we continue on the path toward the Fountain of Youth.


	8. Beautiful and Dark

"What is it like down there, with your—sisters?"

I am asking questions to fill the silence, which only seems to grow longer as the hours go by. She never answers, but even meaningless words are better than watching her silent agony. Though her damp body is huddled against my chest, she refuses to relax, making every effort to prevent her body from betraying the slightest hint of inner weakness. We have walked for miles like this.

But at this question, she finally responds. "It is beautiful. And dark."

She closes her eyes, and for a moment, the tension leaves her face. I wonder if she had ever seen the sunlight before I pinned her to the land.

"Are there—mermen?" For some reason, my breath catches at this question, and I can feel my face blush crimson. She looks at me, and I can see she is nearly smiling through her frown.

"There are no men." Our eyes meet momentarily when she says this, and this time, both of our faces are flushed. Afterwards, we lapse back into silence for the rest of the day.


	9. I am Syrena

The longer she stays silent, the more questions bloom into my mind. And yet I know she will say little, if anything. I wonder what her name is, whether creatures such as she _have _names, what it would sound like next to my own.

"Do mermaids have names?" The words tumble out of my mouth before I can reclaim them.

She looks at me. "Our queen is Tamara."

Ah, the golden-haired one, the one who lured in the men.

"My sister is Marina."

I am spellbound by her hypnotic eyes, her mellifluous voice.

"And—you?" Our faces are inches apart.

"I am Syrena."


	10. Revelation

Angelica calls for us to halt and commands us to stay in the shallow bog while she continues to explore. I am grateful for the break, for my arms ache from the weight of the mermaid. I walk over to the base of a wide banyan tree and gently release her from my arms. She looks as pale and wan as I feel.

Still, she is unnaturally lovely. "Such beauty," I wonder aloud as I kneel before her. "Surely you are one of God's own creations and not a descendent of those dark creatures who found refuge on the ark."

The mermaid's eyes widen at my words, though her expression remains stoic. There is little that seems to faze this resolute creature. Perhaps that is why I am so fascinated by her. I see the strength of Mary and Esther in her eyes. The wisdom of Judith. The pride of Vashti.

But her race is one that tears and devours the flesh of man to survive, that courts the most vulnerable of our men and drags them to the depths of their beautiful and dark realm. I cannot allow my burgeoning fascination to go beyond the levels of basic compassion.

"Such beauty. Yet deadly."

The mermaid startles. "Deadly…no!" she exclaims, a mixture of frustration and indignation breaking through her impassive mask as she shakes her head.

Now I am the one to stare at her in astonishment.

"You attacked me!"

"_No_," she interjects, her voice tight and insistent. "You are different."

"Different?"

"Are you not? You protect." Her expression softens, almost to the point of vulnerability. A faint smile hovers about her lips.

For some reason, the mermaid's words remind me of the moments before her capture. The exploding lights, the falling splinters of wood, the intertwining shrieks and wails of the men and the sirens, and the hands that pulled me facedown into the water mere seconds before a fiery blast of debris hurtled into my body. At this final recollection, I make the connection.

"You! You pushed me down out of the way!"

As she nods, my chest constricts with pain and joy. The mermaid—Syrena—is my salvation. I owe her my life. It is a strange and wonderful revelation.


	11. She Has a Name

"Bring the creature, cover its head!"

Blackbeard's harsh command breaks our reverie and brings me crashing down to the earth, destroying the momentary serenity I had found in her gaze. As he motions impatiently at me, I look back into Syrena's wide, vulnerable eyes, and a flash of pure fury rushes through my entire body. I cannot—will not—allow this innocent creature to be dehumanized by this godless, faithless man.

I turn to face Blackbeard, and I can feel the muscles in my face twisting into the ugliness of anger as I shout, "SHE HAS A NAME!"

He smirks at me, unfazed. "Pray tell," he replies, his voice dripping with contempt.

I turn away from Blackbeard to face Syrena once more. I can feel her tacit approval as she widens her eyes in our silent exchange, but still, I look only to her and not to him when I finally respond, "She's Syrena."


	12. All Will Be Gained

My Bible has all but fallen to pieces, its pages ravaged by the damp tropical air, the water that beat against its spine after I shoved it between the lid and base of Syrena's prison, and the jagged pieces of wood and glass that scattered everywhere after it shattered against the forest floor.

It has fallen to pieces, but I find I understand its contents better now, outside the confines of the paper and ink, in a place where so few seem to know and appreciate its wisdom. The same way I have come to understand Syrena, outside the sea, outside the confines of mermaid lore and its savage history. The way I feel she understands me.

Still, I feel she distrusts me, and as the twilight creeps under the jungle canopy and envelops us in darkness, Syrena retreats once more into silence, the light from our makeshift lanterns accentuating the tension on her face.

She offers me a hint at a smile as I try to reassure her by squeezing her arm, but just as I swallow a sigh of relief, I catch Blackbeard's subtle nod to the quartermaster and my stomach clenches in trepidation.

Before I can even react, the quartermaster is upon me. He seizes Syrena from my arms and shoves a cloth sack over her face, muffling her shrieks and hisses.

"Let her go!" I shout, nearly convulsing in horror.

But they all ignore me, save Angelica. She gazes at me with a silent rebuke that seems to say I have become far too attached to this creature, that there are boundaries that must be set—and kept.

Though my heart is racing and my face is flushed, I decide to heed her warning. Perhaps my acquiescence will preserve Syrena's life. As we continue walking, we enter a swath of mangrove trees surrounded by deep pools, and Blackbeard's eyes widen in anticipation. It is clear he has been here before.

He turns left and ventures forward three steps before he kneels down, pointing his torch at the base of the tree, where a dark form lies. The light from the fire illuminates the grisly truth—a tightly bound skeleton, half-submerged in the water.

The crew stands motionless, waiting for Blackbeard to give further direction. The air is tight with tension.

"Mermaids," Blackbeard announces, his voice low and ominous. My stomach sinks and I glance back at Syrena, who lies limp and motionless in the quartermaster's arms.

Blackbeard follows my gaze and smiles mirthlessly. "Come along, bring the creature," he barks.

The quartermaster leans down and shoves Syrena against the same tree, binding her arms against the rough bark. I stare in shock as I slowly realize Blackbeard's intent. Not only does he intend to wrench a tear from her eyes, he intends to kill her.

I clench my fists in frustration and mutter that Satan himself would not be so callous. Angelica cuts her eyes at me, but I don't care. Her father's work goes beyond that of the devil. His soul is on perilous ground.

"Be careful, these pools run deep," Blackbeard cautions. "If she escapes, all will be lost."

_No_, I think as I watch the quartermaster coil the thick rope around her slender wrists. _All will be gained_.


End file.
